


Careening Toward Being Alone

by doomteacosy



Category: Misfits
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-28
Updated: 2012-08-28
Packaged: 2017-11-13 02:02:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/498227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doomteacosy/pseuds/doomteacosy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alisha hates Thursdays.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Careening Toward Being Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Glimpses into Alisha's future written at the end of series 2 (read: AU).

It's a Thursday when he dies in her arms. Warm, sticky blood seeps out between her fingers and she tries desperately to just  _think._

\---

It's a Thursday when he starts to figure it out.

One evening they’re sitting on the couch. It's nice. Quiet. They've shed all the drama and violence and bullshit of their lives outside and are just… being. His hands play across hers (for no other reason than _they can_ ) and everything's… perfect.

“I wonder whatever happened to our masked vigilante.”

He breaks the silence and her heart in the span of a breath.

Her mind scrambles to find its composure and the answer she always had in mind for these occasions, but something must have shown on her face because his eyebrows are drawing together and  _oh god, not now. Not so soon._

“I don't know.” She says, trying for effortless nonchalance. Praying her face is doing whatever the hell it’s supposed to be doing in this moment. “He just sort of disappeared, didn't he, though?”

He looks at her for a beat too long before agreeing. She nestles her head against his shoulder and tries to breath.

“I guess we'll never know.”

He lets out a breath and she tries to ignore the ache in her heart.

That night she tells him she wants to go to Vegas—get away from all this superpowered bullshit. He doesn't bat an eyelash when he agrees, but she knows somewhere inside a dam has cracked.

\---

It's a Thursday when _she_ cracks. Tells him everything, because she can’t fucking lie to him and there’s too much at stake. She hates it. She hates herself. She hates the past (or future or _whatever_ ) him for telling her in the first place and she hates the present him for taking it so fucking well, because,  _Jesus_ , she just sentenced him to death and he's trying to comfort her.

\---

“I love you.” He says, running a thumb over her cheek.

She almost can’t bring herself to speak. She doesn't want him to leave, doesn’t know how to feel. Loves him and hates him in the same breath.

“I know."

He looks down at her and smiles and it’s quiet and apologetic and _tragic_. She almost squeezes her eyes shut, but she stops herself like she has to memorize every last line and shadow.

“I'll have to go soon.”

She bites back her plea for him to stay, swallows it down with every doubt and regret and bitter thought she has, because he doesn't have the time she does. Instead she leans into him and tries to pour every positive thought and memory she has in her into the way she traces her love against his lips and tongue.

It's a Thursday when he saves the world for her.

It's an empty victory.


End file.
